Page 107 of When Hearts Surrender

But you have your eyes on an Anderson. I see you, bro.

Ryland

Who? Charles, who the fuck are you interested in?

Rex

I’m thinking of a certain ballerina who is the grumpy to our golden boy’ssunshine.

Maxwell

Guys, I’m here. Don’t comment on my sex life if you want to live. And Charles, I’ll be watching you.

Charles

You need to get your eyesight checked, Mr. C. There’s no way I’m interested in that goth brat. No offense.

Taylor

Fuck you. I’m here too, you POS. If you were the last man on earth, I’d rather die alone than be with you, Vaughn.

Charles

I don’t recall asking.

Lana

I swear, you guys put a lid on it. Maxwell, I got the press covered. Right now, they’re spinning the story of an angry husband protecting his wife from her drunk boss. Gordon Flair has been canned. Will let you know if we need you.

Lana

Go enjoy your “honeymoon.” Muahahaha. But seriously, take Belle on a real honeymoon.

“Lana did a good job when Ryland and Millie had their scandal,” Belle murmurs as she stands next to me. “If she says everything is fine, then it is.”

“I’m not sure this will hold for long. The press still hasn’t seen me actingnormalbefore.” I thump my fist against the window and press my forehead against the cool glass. “Fuck. So fucking useless.”

Belle rubs my back. “What’s normal, anyway? We all have our own issues to deal with.” She turns toward me and frowns at what she sees on my face. “But you look miserable. Have you thought about seeing a professional again?”

I bow over, my head knocking against the window in frustration.

I’m angry.

At the world. At myself. At the curse. At my life. At being the firstborn.

Belle lays her head against my back as she wraps her arms around my waist. “It’s okay, Maxwell. We’ll get through this.”

She doesn’t pressure me, doesn’t shame me. Belle understands.

“Dad took me to a therapist soon after Mom’s funeral. I was already an outcast at school. A loner with the fanciest clothes and an important last name. But I always had issues talking to new people. They said I was introverted, and I was fine with that. I liked playing by myself and reading or painting. Ryland was the sunshine between the two of us and I was happy being the quiet older brother.”

I let out a sigh. “But at Mom’s funeral, something inside me broke. I wanted to be brave and tell the world how much I loved Mom. My father said I didn’t need to, but I wanted to do it for her. I guess I thought maybe if I could make that speech, that, if Mom was there watching over me, she’d see how brave I was and wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. But I couldn’t face the crowds. I froze until someone rescued me. Then the jeering happened at school. The kids said I was useless. How my mom would be so disappointed I couldn’t even say a few nice words about her.”

“Those awful brats!” Belle seethes. “I know I’m not supposed to say mean things about little kids, but those are some crappy, shitty little humans who probably shouldn’t have been born. I should feel bad for saying this, but I don’t.”

She huffs and I bite back a smile, a small ray of her sunshine brightening the trip down the dark memory lane.

“I became more withdrawn, and it got to a point where Dad took me to a therapist. Dr. Chandler helped me a lot. Taught me to express myself through art. Sometimes I couldn’t find the words, but I could paint them out. Anything I couldn’t say, I could sketch. It was therapeutic, and I felt connected to Mom because she loved art so much. But Dr. Chandler died when I was twelve and the sessions stopped.”

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